Impressions
by Myriddin
Summary: A weyrling queen catches the attention of the bronze Jarth and consequently, that of his reluctant rider. Their story begins there. IN PROGRESS.
1. Prologue

**Impresssions  
**By Myriddin

**Prologue**

Disclaimer: I own no parts of Dragonriders of Pern, related characters, or storylines. Characters and storylines involved in this fic are original and have no standing in canon.

_**Benden Weyr- Fifth Pass, T15, 3rd Month**_

Weyrleader A'ron stood on the Hatching Grounds at Benden Weyr, looking over at the stars of the event, the Weyr's junior queen pair. Standing next to the golden queen, Faith, was her rider, Agnes, glowing with excitement. Faith, hovering over her eggs, hissed at the young Candidates gathering around them.

A hush came over the crowd as the eggs began to shake violently. One rather large one fell over and the dragonet emerged. It was a bronze! Always a sign of good luck. The hatchling kept up its pitiful keening until a tall lad with a mess of dark curls kneeled beside it. He rested his hands lightly against the dragonet's back and the bronze laid adoring eyes for the first time on his new bondmate.

Impression was made.

One by one, the dragonets emerged from their shells and found their life partners. A'ron folded his arms across his chest, looking with satisfaction over the Hatching. It had been a good-sized clutch, thirty eggs. He watched as his Wingsecond, R'ner, and the Weyrlingmaster, B'ton, led out the new riders and their dragonets, mentally counting the colors that passed him. Three bronzes, five browns, ten blues, and twelve greens. Good proportions.

R'ner, he noticed was grinning proudly, a strange thing to see on his usually somber, no-nonsense second. A'ron looked closer at the retreating riders. _Ah_, he thought knowingly. The younger of R'ner's sons, Bryren, had impressed a brown. His old friend had been disappointed when his firstborn, Reran, had been left standing on the Grounds three Turns before, but the young man had later been scouted by Healer Hall, and now made a good living for himself. All the same, there was something to be said about seeing a child of your own siring to be chosen. A'ron could remember the feeling well.

Soon, as everyone descended into the Lower Caverns, the Hatching feast was started and the Caverns were filled with lively chatter. The new Weyrlings made their triumphant entrance a short time later. A'ron walked around, congratulating new riders' families. He inspected the wide, outstretched space, catching sight of Agnes, and her weyrmate, H'rant. H'rant, a Wingleader, and his bronze, Lineth, were one of the most capable and competent fighting pairs the Weyr had. A'ron couldn't think of a stronger pair to have caught the fair Faith.

A rumble of agreement from his dragon, Eleth, reverberated through his mind. There was a hint of inquiry between them about their absentee mates, but the memory of the two-decade younger Teena and her sour distance toward him, had them both shaking their heads. Eleth nudged him with a reminder of their celebration, with a flash of the pride and beauty that had radiated from Faith and Agnes earlier that afternoon. A'ron stifled a chuckle, feeling Eleth's smug response in return. A father's pride, he supposed. Eleth had sired the queen, after all, and A'ron, the rider.

A'ron allowed a soft smile to escape him, something he knew was barely seen on his craggy old face and certain to shock the youngsters around him. It was rare for him to think of himself as such, as anything other than the stern, dutiful Weyrleader he had been for so many Turns.

Before he could continue down that line of thought, however, as he found himself broken from his reverie by the approach of Astos, the ever-jovial Lord Holder of Lemos and his lovely Lady, Dena. Astos greeted him merrily, catching him in a fierce hug and cheerfully announcing, "A'ron, you old wher! It's been too long!"

"To you as well, As-" The dragonrider wheezed as Astos heartily clapped his back with a bit too much enthusiasm for a man fifteen Turns the Lord Holder's senior. Dena, being the insightful woman she was, immediately came to A'ron's rescue by gently extracting him from her husband's hold. A'ron gave her a grateful smile and offered her his arm, to which she took with a warm laugh. Her hand tucked firmly against his elbow, they walked together to the nearest table, Astos trailing happily behind them.

He was introduced to one of Astos' more prominent Holders, seated at the same table as the Lord Holder and his family. Thorton was a tall, burly man with a work-creased face and deep tan, clearly the product of a life of hard work, and wearing a fine enough tunic that A'ron came to the conclusion the man's hard work had paid off for him. He introduced the buxom, matronly woman beside him as his wife, Angela, and rattled off the names of four or five sons nearby, all as solidly-built and dark-haired as their father.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Holder Thorton."

"The pleasure's mine, Weyrleader."

Greetings exchanged, A'ron eased his way into the proffered chair beside Astos. As if appearing out of nowhere, Teena sidled up behind him, seamlessly fitting herself between them. She kissed the Lord's cheek, exchanged pleasantries with his Lady, and courteously allowed herself to be introduced to Thorton and Angela. Noticing the way she pointedly didn't look at him, the way she held herself away from him despite being seated at his side, made him wince and sigh.

Since the retirement of the elderly Ria to the warmer climates of Ista five Turns before, Teena's queen Dearth had been caught by Eleth in every mating flight since, more by sheer force of will than youth and strength. As Weyrleader since the beginning of the Pass, his solid, dependable leadership had been needed, though resented by his young Weyrwoman. Perhaps not for much longer, however. He and Eleth both felt it in their old bones; someday soon, they would not fly when Dearth rose.

_We have had our time_, Eleth's comforting rumble reminded him. _You have been a good leader_.

_Thank you, old friend. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you_.

A'ron sighed, brushing a hand through his silver hair before turning his attention back into the conversation going on around him.

"One of Thorton and Angela's sons Impressed today," Astos was informing them.

"Congratulations," Teena said, smiling pleasantly at them. Angela smiled back with the same gentility, but the look on Thorton's face was forced, more a grimace than anything else. A'ron gracefully ignored the unpleasant expression, instead focusing his attention on the mother.

"Has…" Eleth provided the name to his ever-grateful rider, having picked it up from the conversation A'ron had only listened to with half-an-ear, "…Anthor returned yet?"

"I'm right here, sir," came a young voice from behind him, A'ron turning around to face the boy behind him, his welcoming smile growing as he recognized the child as the one to Impress the first bronze at the Hatching.

"Have you chosen a name for yourself?" the Weyrleader asked, studying the youth before him. He was tall for his age, but thin and rangy compared to his more robust brothers and sire. Hesitant eyes, barely visible beneath his mess of tousled dark curls, threw an uneasy glance in Thorton's direction. But then he straightened and faced the Weyrleader with such an air of new confidence, A'ron felt a flash of pride for him despite just having met the boy.

"A'thor. It's simple enough," The boy grinned, white teeth flashing in a glowing, youthful face. "And Jarth likes it. He said as much, before he dropped off snoring, full belly and all."

A'ron reached out, clasping the boy's shoulders, and smiled warmly, A'thor's own grin infectious. "You'll grow used to that, lad. They're gluttons in their first few months." He paused to listen to Eleth grumbling in protest in his mind, and he sent waves of warmth and love to soothe his bronze's bruised feelings. "Congratulations, A'thor, rider of bronze Jarth. Welcome to your new home."


	2. First Impressions

**Impressions**

By Myriddin

**One: First Impressions**  
**  
**Disclaimer: I own no parts of Dragonriders of Pern, related characters, or storylines. Characters and storylines involved in this fic are original and have no standing in canon.

_**Benden Weyr- Fifth Pass, T20  
**_  
A'thor was suddenly awoken one morning by the loud keening of several dozen dragons. He groaned, burying his face in his pillow, and reached out with his mind to his partner.

_What's happening?_

_A green's getting herself chased._ Jarth's reply had the same drowsy quality as his rider, and something about that caught A'thor's attention.

_Not interested?_

_Not at the moment._ Their link quieting, A'thor waited until the sound of draconic snoring filled both his head and the weyr, and he chuckled to himself, choosing to climb out of bed instead of following the bronze's example. Naked, he slipped out from between the covers, hissing as his bare feet hit the cold floor. As he stretched, his eyes caught his image in the reflecting glass nearby, and he paused.

Holder-bred, nearly five Turns had now passed since he had first come to the Weyr, and he was no longer the scrawny, gangly youth he had been when he Impressed Jarth.

He was tall, able now to carry the height without his old awkwardness. His frame had filled out, shoulders and arms broadened, his body trim and leanly muscled. His skin was deeply burnished from hours under the sun, and his dark hair was cropped in typical rider fashion. While never one for vanity, he wasn't unaware of his looks, and he was no stranger to the intimate secrets a warm body and dark weyr could offer a man.

He quirked a smile and shook his head, turning his attention back to dressing, and maybe a bath if there was room, before his bits iced over in the winter chill. Winter at Benden was a wondrous time of year, he groused to himself.

xx

One of the best part of Benden's Lower Caverns, besides the ever-encompassing promise of good food and companionship, was how wonderfully warm it was. A'thor sighed with pleasure as he prodded down the stairs to the welcoming smells and heat, wonderful heat. He maneuvered through throngs of hungry and chatty riders to make his way toward the kitchens. The Headwoman, Sela, gave him a warm smile as he slipped in, pointedly ignoring the giggles of a few of the girls he passed by. Sela arched an eyebrow, gave him a wry look, and proceeded to dish him a bowl of porridge and a cup of fresh klah. "Spiced just the way you like it, love," she told him.

A'thor grinned, leaning down to kiss a wrinkled cheek. "Thank you, Sela. You're an angel."

Sela scoffed and lightly rapped his knuckles with her spoon, though the light coloring of her face had the rider's smile widening all the more. "There's fresh bread on the tables, if you can wrestle any away from your fellows. Now, get going, you charmer, before I let my girls have their pick of you."

He gulped, casting a wary look at the trio of young women openly appraising him and he hastily nodded. "Best I should. Have a good morning, Sela."

He scurried out of the kitchen, out into the busy bustle of the communal dining room, and he brightened as his friend, B'ren, motioned him over. A'thor made his way toward him, seating himself down to the comfortable, familiar atmosphere to the table of four.

Snatching up the remainder of the table's bread, he took a long draw of his klah, about to tuck into steaming spiced porridge when he caught B'ren giving him a strange look. "What?"

The brown rider gave him a sly smile. "You hear the green's flight this morning?"

A'thor snorted, and nodded his head. "How could I not? It woke me…us…both, up."

Their mutual Wingsecond, bronze D'gal, gave him a curious look. "Jarth wasn't interested?"

"Not in the least," A'thor sighed, "He's still snoring away in the weyr."

M'lan, another brown rider, propped up his chin and gave him an appraising look. "No interest at all? What is this, the fifth, sixth flight you've stayed grounded? Probably more."

Both B'ren and D'gal looked at A'thor with sudden interest. "He's right," D'gal said, "It seems a bit strange. Has Jarth even looked at a female since last spring?"

"Since Sebama," B'ren corrected, giving his friend a pointed look. The entire table winced at the mention of the prickly green rider, beautiful but deadly in attitude. She had been A'thor's weyrmate for a time, and never failed to let everyone know her displeasure at the arrangement.

A'thor glared at them, rather disgruntled about being put on the spot. "No. He hasn't. I…" he trailed off, looking suddenly wistful, "It's odd, almost like he's waiting for something…" He shook his head, focusing on his fellows with a frowning defensiveness. "What about you three? You wouldn't be here now if you'd been part of the chase earlier."

M'lan sighed. "I was on watch duty. Trust me, Ianith was twitchy, all right."

D'gal shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he sipped at his klah. "I woke up this morning with my own woman wrapped around me. Taneth and I were plenty satisfied."

B'ren huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "I was running messages. Earned a few marks, but I missed out on a good tumble."

A'thor laughed good-naturedly, shaking his head at his friends as he began to eat.

"Eat hearty, boys," D'gal told them all enthusiastically, "We've got Thread at 09:00."

His only response was a chorus of protesting groans all around.

xx

Daniela, the most junior of Benden Weyr's queen riders, sat on a ledge overlooking the Bowl, watching as Weyrlings and their young dragons popped in and out of Between over the practice grounds. Wrapped up as she was in hide and fur, she still shivered as a brisk wind blew by. It was midway through the 11th month of the Turn, and while there was still no snow, the weather was still significantly cold.

There was a muffled sound of movement from the weyr behind her, and seeing through her rider's eyes, the sound of the young queen's voice was full of yearning. _Can I fly like that? _

_We have to wait, dear heart. You're not old enough yet. _

_I'm the same age as the others. _

_You're a queen. The Weyrleaders say you can't fly for a few more months. _

Banceth grumbled. _I can descend to the feeding grounds, but I'm not allowed to fly._

Daniela smiled sympathetically. _I'm sorry, love_. The girl, and her bondmate through her, sighed and stared longingly at the open sky.

Xx

The fighting wings suddenly appeared out of Between above the Weyr. As their Wingleader had stayed behind with a minor Thread injury, D'gal gave the signal to descend. In response to Jarth's continual complaining that he was starving, A'thor chuckled as the pair made their way to the hunting ground. "Really, you glutton," he commented as they dropped down, "You would think I never feed you. You just ate two days ago."

Jarth chose not to reply, depositing his rider on the ground and lunging at the first herdbeast he saw. A'thor glanced around, noticing the grounds were nearly empty. An elderly rider feeding his brown, who was more bronze with age than anything else. Two small greens, just barely out of Weyrling status, were playing as much as they were feeding. The bronze rider smiled at their jubilance, and his eyes widened as he realized who was near the mischievous greens.

_**Jarth!**_

The young queen dragon, with her teeth buried deep in a beast's neck, barely paid any mind to the bronze that veered off his path near her and swung his great head toward his rider. Jarth, older and larger in size than the queen, needed to be drawn back both in respect and for the female's safety. The bronze moved away a decent distance, both males watching as the queen snagged another herdbeast.

Her rider, who had been chatting with the green riders, took notice of their retreat and she approached them. "It's alright," she said to A'thor with a smile, "She's almost done."

A'thor made to protest, but the girl spoke to the queen, cutting her off. The gold protested. "You will not gorge yourself, Banceth," her rider chided, "Others have to eat."

At that command, Jarth rushed forward at the herd with a ferocity and recklessness that had A'thor groaning. He turned his head toward a resulting giggle, and the girl grinned at him, knowingly.

She was beautiful, he realized. Her hair, a rich and glossy raven-black, cascaded around slender shoulders. She had one of those sweet, open faces, complete with a pair of emerald eyes looking up at him curiously. She was petite, small in frame, and A'thor smiled as he thought she would fit perfectly tucked up against him. But he realized, belatedly, she couldn't be more than seventeen.

"You're Daniela, right?" he asked, trying to remember the riders D'gal had pointed out to him at the last Hatching with a queen egg.

She nodded.

"I'm A'thor," he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, "That big lug's Jarth."

"I know," she gave him a shy smile, "You fly with D'gal."

"Uh-uh. You know D'gal?"

"Hmm, yes. He's my brother…well, half-brother."

A'thor was visibly surprised, but he nodded understandingly. It had taken some time, him being Hold-bred, for him to comprehend. He knew fostering was practiced in the Weyrs, and relationships between parent and child, as well as siblings, weren't normally as strong as the bonds later formed between fosterlings, wing-mates, and weyrmates.

"Then old D'sel is your father?" his nose wrinkled with distaste at the thought of the old, irritable bronze rider who always seemed as if he had swallowed something sour. "I didn't know D'sel had a daughter. Or that D'gal had a sister."

She gave him a curious look. "I'm sure you know the ways of the Weyr. My mother died several years ago. I was fostered, and I was never very close to D'sel. I'm on better terms with D'gal than I am with most older riders."

He gave her a charming grin. "Well, you can count two now." He turned toward Banceth with a soft, reverent expression. "She's quite beautiful. A good size for a queen, and such a lovely shade."

Daniela smiled at the compliment, even more so at the soft crooning Banceth began at the human male's praise. "She's getting bigger, larger than the other dragonets."

"She's a queen. She'll be larger than Jarth."

"Dunno," Daniela said dubiously, "Jarth's pretty large."

"Hmm…one of the biggest bronzes in the weyr."

As they had been talking, Banceth and Jarth had gravitated toward one another, nuzzling and nudging against each other. Daniela giggled as she watched them, and A'thor smiled as she watched her. Warmth flooded through him.

_Jarth?_

_Yes?_

_Was that you?_

A sound of agreement, and another feeling of that heat swelling in his chest. _She's too young_, A'thor said firmly, finding himself not only speaking of the young queen.

_She'll grow. _

His breath catching, A'thor swung his head around to stare incredulously at his dragon.

Last spring…the queen egg, Banceth's egg…had hatched.

Looks like he found what Jarth had been waiting for.


	3. Second Impressions

**Impressions  
**By Myriddin

**Two: Second Impressions**

Disclaimer: I own no parts of Dragonriders of Pern, related characters, or storylines. Characters and storylines involved in this fic are original and have no standing in canon.

_**Benden Weyr- Fifth Pass, T20, 11th Month**_

The air was cold and biting with the frost of early winter, evident in the misty haze fogging the air. Any skin left exposed was numb from the chill, made evident as he tugged his fur trimmed jacket closer around his body. The outside was quiet in the early morning stillness, a peace he knew would soon be broken, for inside, residents (human and draconic alike) were beginning to stir, and soon, despite the cold, the Bowl would be teeming with life as much as the inside workings of the Weyr.

His hands were rhythmic in their occupation as they went through repairs to Jarth's riding harness and his own gear, expertly moving through the motions ingrained into him as a Weyrling. Intent on his task, he went unnoticing as the clouds parted in the skies above his head, allowing the soft glow of the sunlight to spill through, dissipating the misty fog.

With the new warmth of the sun on his back, he hummed contently as he worked, spilling over into song as beams of sunlight dominating over the obscuring cloud cover.

"…beat of heart…"

And his voice, a rich, male timbre, softly filled the air, rising in harmony to the point that he missed the sound of approaching footsteps.

"A'thor?"

"…turn of pride…"

"A'thor!"

His eyes flew open, his hands thrown to either side of him to keep him from falling over in his surprise. A'thor found himself staring up into the bewitching eyes of Daniela, nearly touching nose to nose, as she was bent down to him.

"Er…hello."

Color stained the girl's cheeks with realization at their proximity. She pulled away, jerking her body back with such force that her feet lost their balance. But just before she hurtled back unto the ground, a pair of strong hands locked around her arms, gently tugging her forward. Unfortunately for the two, the rescue only changed the direction of the fall's momentum, sending her tumbling into A'thor's lap.

Daniela flushed with mortification as she shakily moved away from him. She brushed imaginary dirt from her trousers in an effort not to meet his eyes. "Thank you," she said softly. She looked up at him sheepishly. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all," he grinned, "To be honest, I was starting to grow bored, with no company but my own and Jarth's snoring in my head."

Daniela laughed softly, giving him a shy, warm smile as she sat next to him. "He's not as early a riser as his partner, then?"

"Oh, no. He's never been keen to be roused before he pleases. The only time he's easy to forgive me for it is if there's Fall to fly."

She smiled, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Banceth's not much the same. She's so full of energy, she can hardly keep still in her waking hours. She ever sleeps restlessly, always moving and twitching. She's up and about when she wants to be, and not a moment sooner. Why should she keep sleeping, she says, when there's so much to do?"

"So no lie-ins for you, I presume."

"Oh, no. Poor thing had a long day yesterday, so while she's still sleeping, I'm so used to being up with the sun I couldn't join her." Her expression was one of exasperated fondness, the same besotted adoration you could see in any rider toward their dragon leaked through any real annoyance.

He chuckled, the look on his face equal parts sympathetic and amused. "I see. Let's not hold it against her, though. I'm glad for the company."

"Oh, don't let her hear you use too much praise. She already had too much of a big head from your compliments on the hunting grounds."

A'thor smiled gently, and she felt something inside warm, thinking what a nice smile he had. "I wouldn't worry. She's one of our lady queens, after all. Just wait until she's on wing, up in these skies. The entire Weyr will be in awe."

She couldn't help smiling in return, looking up at the sky with a wistful sigh. "She's so eager to fly, and so jealous of the others."

He hummed thoughtfully, raising the harness he had been working on to his face to tear off the excess string with his teeth. "She'll fly soon. It's just that as a queenpair, you're both so precious to us, the Weyrleaders want to be especially careful and wait for her to grow a bit more."

Daniela blushed, and knew that when she later relayed the conversation, the little queen would be pleased by the bronzerider's words. She watched him rethread his needle, and hoped with the comfortable dynamic they seemed to have established, her next question was not too invasive. "If you don't mind my asking…what was it like for you as a Weyrling, being Hold-bred and all?"

He set his work aside and turned to face her, folding his legs under him. "It was different, though I suppose that's a bit of an understatement. I grew up in Lemos. You can imagine with all those trees, it was a bit hard to see the sky," he gave her a half-grin as she shook her head at the humor with a small smirk of her own, "So I didn't think much about riding dragons. My family's actually rather well-off, you see. Lots of land, lumber trade, and a few mills. And Lord Astos' favor."

He rested his chin in his hand, arm propped by his knee. "My father's a practical man. Very pragmatic. He had very little patience for…_what did he call it_…having your head up in the clouds. His sons were going to be sensible, hard-working men who followed him and kept their feet on the ground. So, you can imagine how shocked I was when the Search dragon came and chose me. My father wasn't all that happy either." He shrugged. "It was just a very big change to come to the Weyr, let alone Impress. It took me a long time to adjust. It helped to have friends. Your brother among them."

"Well," she said lightly, "I'm glad you had him. I've always liked his company, myself." He flashed her a grin in response, and something pleasant hummed through her at the sight.

They lapsed into silence, and to Daniela's pleasure, it was a comfortable one. She spared a glance at her companion, but A'thor's eyes were aimed toward the Bowl, and she took the chance to study him.

He was an attractive man, rather handsome with a strong, rugged quality to his features. Short-clipped dark hair did nothing to distract from his clean-shaven face, his skin still retaining its golden tan from the summer-sun. Tall, with broad shoulders and lean muscles, he seemed every bit the ideal bronze rider.

His eyes were kind, dark gray in color, and feeling her gaze on him, they focused on her, relaxed and content. But before either of them could speak again, Daniela was startled out of her reverie by the sudden echo of Banceth's voice in her mind.

_Where are you? I'm hungry._

He cocked an eyebrow, his lips quirking with the beginnings of a grin at her obvious jump. "Something wrong?"

She shook her head, "Banceth's awake, and hungry it seems."

He hummed in agreement. "I remember those days."

She stood, brushing off her pants and watched as he rose to his feet as well. She hesitated, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "The feeding won't take long. Would…would you like to have breakfast after?"

The look on his face was torn, regretful. "I would love to, but I have somewhere to be. Another time?"

She forced a smile, nodding. "Of course."

_Are you hurt? You feel upset. _

_I'm fine, dear one. Just a bit disappointed. _

_Jarth says the man wants to stay with you, but he has something important to do. You should not be sad. _

Daniela flushed, wishing not for the first time she was as transparent to another being as she was to her wily queen_. Thank you. I'm not sad anymore._

A'thor hesitated after picking up his gear, turning back to face her. This time, her smile was more genuine, and he beamed a boyish little grin, raising his hand in a jaunty wave before they parted ways.

xx

**Lower Caverns:**

"A'thor!"

As A'thor navigated his way through the crowds of Weyr-brats gathering for the morning meal, he turned toward the source of the call, a slender, dark-haired woman waving him to an empty corner.

"A'thor, this is a surprise! We weren't expecting you for at least another sevenday."

A'thor gave the woman a polite smile in greeting, but found his attention more focused on what she was holding. "I know, but I have something for him, and I couldn't wait to give it to him."

The woman, Sara, gave him a knowing look as she noticed his distraction, carefully transferring the squirming bundle in her arms. "I just finished feeding him," she said softly, "So he'll drift off soon. But I'm sure he'll be happy to visit until then."

A'thor smiled as he sat down, cradling the child she had handed him. He gently placed the boy, Sebor, in his lap, and smiled at the low hum of contentment the baby made as he cuddled closer. As he handed Sebor the toy he had picked up at an Istan Gather a few days before, he found himself musing over the circumstances that had surrounded the little one's existence.

Sebor was the end-result of Jarth's catching a green a little over a Turn before. When her rider fell pregnant, it was only A'thor's beseeching, Hold-bred horror at the idea of "taking a short dragon-ride" and the allowance of the Weyrleader, A'ron, that Sebama and her green could be allowed the downtime from Threadfall, that convinced Sebama to carry to term. She hadn't been happy about it, and made certain A'thor knew it every second of her pregnancy. After nine months of sharing a weyr, their son was born, weaned and fostered, and both riders happily went their separate ways.

Typically, A'thor had taken to seeing the baby twice a month since his birth. But spotting a particular plaything in a toymaker's booth at the Gather taking place at Ista Hold after he and Jarth flew a Master Fisherman there, he spent most of his newly-earned marks, and he'd been eager to present the gift to his son. It was worth it, he knew, seeing the look of fascination on his son's little face.

The bronzerider grinned as the boy shoved the tail of the stuffed fire-lizard in his mouth, gnawing between toothless gums. At four months, Sebor was an active tot, alert and vocal with his new ability to babble sounds only he understood. He squirmed, chattering happily at his father of all the goings-on he had missed, or that was what A'thor interpreted his son's words as.

Eventually, the inevitable came at his young age, especially with a full belly, and he grew fussy and drowsy. A'thor rocked him, cuddling him close.

His eyes, only recently turned to gray, fell to half-mast and sleepily, Sebor snuggled up against the broad expanse of his sire's chest, instinctually trying to burrow close to the warmth. A rich chuckle rumbled through A'thor's chest, causing a little nose to wrinkle as the sound tickled against the child's ear. Gentle hands lifted him until he was held more securely in strong arms and the baby closed his eyes, safe and warm, and fell into a deep sleep.

"He wore himself out," Sara said with a light laugh.

A'thor smiled softly, stroking a hand through his son's fine dark hair. "He did."

Sara watched them with a fond smile, "We'll still be seeing you on the third-day?"

"Of course." He kissed Sebor's forehead. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."

xx

"A'thor!"

Musing over receiving such a greeting for the third time that day, A'thor turned to find D'gal waving at him, jogging to catch up as he walked the corridors leading away from the Caverns.

The Wingsecond gave him a friendly smile, "How's your boy doing?"

A'thor was not surprised in the least that his friend knew his reason for being in this area of the Weyr. "Sebor's doing well."

D'gal nodded, falling into step beside him before giving him a thoughtful look. "Could I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What exactly happened with Sebama?"

A'thor scowled. "She practically breathed fire herself when I pressed her to stay with me, after she got pregnant. You know how she is. She stayed, looked at me with nothing but contempt the entire time, and moved out of the weyr the moment the baby was weaned."

D'gal winced sympathetically. "I'm sorry, friend."

The younger rider snorted. "I'm not. To see her go, I mean."

His wing-mate laughed lightly. "I see. So things are working out for the babe?"

"They are. They're good people in the crèche. One woman, Sara, had really taken to him. Sela says it might be an early sign of a good fostering match, but she couldn't be certain."

"She cares. A fosterling can't ask for anything better."

"Hmm." A'thor cocked his head in his friend's direction, taking the time to study him. Now that he took the time, let his mind open to the details, he could see the likenesses between Daniela and the man standing beside him. There was a resemblance in the curve of his nose and the shape of his mouth, the angle of his cheekbones. They had the same eyes, though D'gal's were a darker shade, reminding A'thor of the moss growing along the trunks of the oldest trees in Lemos' vast forests. "So it was alright for you? You and Daniela, I mean."

D'gal paused, looking him over in a way that A'thor felt he was being scrutinized. "It was. My mother was a green rider, and Daniela's, she died from the birth. I was well-cared for, and plenty loved, by my foster-mother. I had siblings in other fosterlings. And I knew my sister." His expression was one of soft understanding. "He'll be fine, A'thor."

A'thor nodded absently, drawn away by his thoughts. D'gal cleared his throat, regaining his attention. "Speaking of Daniela, I heard you two had met."

Was it just him, or was there suddenly ruddy color in A'thor's cheeks? "Yes. Just a conversation on the feeding grounds."

The older man stopped, giving his companion the same searching look. "Be careful, A'thor. Banceth's still young, and my sister's still…" He trailed off, but raising his eyebrows gave A'thor the idea he was trying to convey.

A'thor fiercely shook his head. "No, D'gal…I won't…" He gave his friend a helpless look. "It's Jarth," he admitted, "Banceth's what he's been waiting for."

D'gal nodded, not looking the least bit surprised. "Then like I said, be careful. I like you, A'thor, and the dragon is never wrong. Still…not yet, my friend. Not quite yet."

A'thor agreed, but when the thought of a certain queen and her rider stirred Jarth back in their weyr and a possessive rumble echoed in his head, he wondered if he really had a choice in the matter.


End file.
